


the burning bridge

by philliebf



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fighting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of homophobia, References to Depression, References to Drugs, S L O W B U R N, Slow Burn, Street fighting, college!phil, fighter!Dan, ptsd is like v common theme i think, references to family troubles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philliebf/pseuds/philliebf
Summary: AU where dan is a street fighter with a daunting past, and a desire to forget who he really is. phil is a poor university student recovering from a loss no person should ever face. when a mistaken bus journey and desire to connect bring these boys together they must fight for their relationship and face the pasts they are trying so desperately to hide.





	1. prologue | the morning after

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to my brand new fic. 
> 
> !!WARNING!! This fic will contain violence, not gruesome, but it will be alluded to and described in slight graphic detail.
> 
> this fic will be updated every other thursday of the month!

His limbs were stiff, chants from the previous night echoed in his head. There were ravaging punches being thrown to the young boys gut and face. He felt the cool crisp autumn air on his bare, sweaty chest. The wraps on his hands were bloodied and dirty from the previous fights of the night. He was exhausted both physically and mentally as the night came to a close. The drowning screams resounding off the walls of the hanger were nothing but harmful to the boy, who was barely 18.

_‘Kill the little mutt show him what he deserves!’_ he heard a voice he recognized all too well.

“Dad?” he called.

“Dad?!” the young man called again, scanning the crowd.

Dan shot up in a cold sweat curly hair clinging desperately to his forehead. The memories of last night mixing with the delusion of his dream causing his head to fill with false memories. His breathing was shallow and quick, as anything more would be too painful. His hands brushed his eyes and he flinched in discomfort at what was likely a black eye. Stretching slowly he began to stand and make his way to the small bathroom. Dan was desperate to assess the damage from last nights fight, as it was nothing short of brutal.  

His eyes wandered up and down the mirror as if something would change the next time he looked up. Dan's frame was smaller than most of the other men, but he was taller and faster. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t get a good punch in.

Dan gently ran his fingers over the black and yellow bruise on his ribs, he knew that was where Ian had hit him last Saturday. The layers of bruising definitely meant some form of fracture over the recently healed rib. He winced again as he touched his right eye, the inner corner was a dark violet and it spilled around the rest of his eye. His knees were scraped from the few falls he has had and his nose was lined with small cuts, traveling to his forehead. This week had been easier on Dan then he expected. He was grateful another broken nose would have cost him his reputation.

Dan pressed his swollen eye again, the searing pain made him see spots in the other eye. This reminded him he was alive, he wasn’t a pawn or a video game character you could choose on a selection screen. He was a human person. And just for one second in the life, he was damned to live, he felt alive.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, hitting the white tiles beside the mirror.

The teenager threw open the medicine cabinet grabbing the naproxen with a swiftness and desperation for release. He drifted backward and slid down the cool tiles, his legs were sore and there was no use standing anymore. Stuffing two naproxen in his mouth, he swallowed them dry. Resting his now pounding head against the tile he accepted his loss from the night before.

The naproxen would let Dan become what he knew how to be. A robot, a pawn, a video game character whose one job was to fight and whose one goal was to win. Dan knew it wouldn’t take long, so for now, he was just a boy. A young boy, whose parents left him for dead, who found a way to cope. His heart tightened at the thought of his Mom and Dad, and for a moment, all he could do was cry. The silent kind of cry, when you feel like you’re going to disappear but you aren’t quite gone yet.

Just as soon as the tears came, the medicine took it away. He was no longer 18-year-old Daniel Howell. He was Dan the street fighter, with a secret that could cost his life.


	2. as the seasons change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last note i promise... i know my grammar is shit, i hate rereading my own writing but as i post chapters i will go back to the previous and edit i promise. Just bare with me, for now, ty ly bb.

_‘Jab, cross, jab, and uppercut,’_ Dan thought out the well-calculated boxing routine. _‘Faster! Jab, cross, kick, hook, and jab!’_ His body was begging him to stop.

Sweat was pouring down his face, his legs began to wobble beneath him, and his heart was racing. Losing was never an easy feat for Dan, as a loss in the ring resonated with him for weeks. He began to push himself again, taking a swing at the punching bag that hung from the ceiling.

“Ow! Shit,” he gasped as his fist collided with the bag.

He looked down at the dirtied wrap and saw a dark crimson begin to seep through the off-white fabric. As he unwrapped his hands they began to sting, the cool air mixed with the pre-existing damages were enough to make anyone cry out in pain. Not Dan though, he had known this pain before. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding, both of his hands were swollen and bruised. This never stopped him from fighting, his hands were his weapon, his tool, and his only form of income. Losing a fight was just losing money to Dan, something that was rarely accessible to the young man.

“Oh, would you look at this, the pretty boy just couldn’t get enough of me last night,” he heard Ian taunt from behind him.

Ian was an older man, probably twenty-six or twenty-seven. He was shorter than dan, but he was big and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His head was shaved bald, and judging by his tattoos, he looks as if he was once a gang member. Dan always hated fighting Ian, as they were rivals in the ring. One always taking a win over the other in an endless battle to see who could be the best.

“What do you want?” Dan countered, disinterested in the taunt.

“I want a lot of things Danny boy, I want the title of best fighter this year, I want all the cash you copped from me, and most importantly I want you six feet underground,” he was acting almost sarcastic, but the boy knew there was truth laced in his voice.

Dan would never be safe, in every fight, there was always a loss to be won. In a street fight there is only one rule, don’t die. Not dying in a fight, and not getting yourself killed are two very different things. Sore losers are all you will come across after a street fight, and they’re looking for redemption. They smell their blood on your hands and wouldn’t hesitate to skin you alive.

“Yeah, well you might have to actually learn how to fight before I’m six feet under,” He retorted.

“That shiner I gave you last night is enough for me to know I could have you dead in seconds if I really wanted to!” The older man shouted drawing attention from some of the other gym patrons.

Most of the other gym goers were also fighters, but still, no one would dare get into a fight that isn’t in the hanger. If one fighter gets arrested the whole community goes down with it. You’d think Ian would know better, then again he will also assert himself using brute force if necessary.

“Calm down, I’m only playing around,” Dan was getting nervous, “We’ll find out tonight if that was luck or talent.”

“You better watch your back, kid. Not everyone’s going to go as easy on you as me,” Ian glared at the boy.

“As if I haven’t been doing this for years,” Dan scoffed again, turning away from Ian and collecting his things.

He pushed past the man who was trying to intimidate Dan. Dan placed his dodgy headphones in his ears, he waited until he was outside to play music on his iPod. The device was absolute shit and he’s had it for what would be considered forever to most teens these days. If he could afford a better one he would, but for now, he would make do. As he scrolled through the limited song library, he opted for some relaxing piano. This would drown out the busy sounds of the tube, without aggravating the dull ache that was beginning to form in his temples.

In the tube, people would always give the boy looks. They would stare at his eye or his knuckles. It always made him want to scream, “Mind your own damn business!”  He never did. He sat silently, letting the exhaustion of the day set in.

The tube arrived at the last stop on the line, and dan collected himself. As he exited the station he felt another cool breeze blow through his hair and he began to shiver. It was no longer summer and he wouldn’t be able to get through winter with the few sweaters he owned. A new jacket from the Goodwill was something that couldn’t wait any longer, as much as dan wished it could. For now, Dan let the breeze chill him. He walked slowly taking in everything he passed. The trees were changing colours and dark overcast days were more often than not.

Autumn used to be Dan’s favourite season, the warmth that people would radiate even on the coldest days. A hot cup of tea during the fiercest storms bringing a feeling of content to even the most melancholy soul. Now it was just a reminder of his destitute, the fact that a cup of tea was a luxury, or that he had no one to share it with. Dan was a lost soul who was just trying to survive and no one even glimpsed his way. That was probably for the best.

The walk to Dan’s flat was shorter than he had hoped or anticipated. He pulled his key out of his bag and almost didn’t notice the raven-haired man struggling to open the door.

“‘Scuse me, mate?” The man said looking at Dan.

Dan took his headphones from his ears, “Yeah?” He spoke in an unfriendly way. The man blocking the door was the only thing between dan and rest before he had to be back at the hanger tonight.

“I don’t suppose you could lend me a hand? I’m new in the building and the damn key won’t turn,” the thick northern accent resonated in Dan's ears.

He moved in front of the door, the other boy getting out of his way.  He didn’t bring himself to look at who he was helping. The looks on the train were enough, he didn’t need another neighbour to stare at him in shock too. No one ever asks, they all just look.

Dan jiggled the keys turning it slightly to the right then all the way to the left. The lock clicked and dan opened the door with ease. The building was old and rundown, almost everything had a trick to it if you wanted it to work.

“Hey man, thanks. I’m Phil by the way,” the man said behind Dan.

“Good for you,” Dan retorted sarcastically.

“This is normally where you’d say your name but I take it you aren’t the chatty type. Thanks anyway I’m sure I’ll see you around!” Phil seemed unphased by Dan’s lack of charisma. He took his keys and walked into the elevator.

Dan took the stairs, but not until he watched Phil from the foyer get into the elevator and disappear. He noticed how tall and pale Phil was, he had this beautiful raven hair and slim figure. He just looked good.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dan whispered to himself, he didn’t like other boys. He wasn’t going to be a twink.

Dan darted up the stairs to the second floor and collapsed on his bed as soon as he got in. Sleep came over his body instantaneously, he needed rest for his fights tonight. As he slept all he could do was dream of the raven-haired boy named Phil, and he hated himself for it.


	3. the animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is drunk. Dan struggles at work.

Dan woke up feeling well rested and much less sore than earlier that day. He turned to get a glimpse of the clock, ‘19:15’ it read. Dan had about two hours before he had to leave if he wanted to catch the last express train across town. He would normally have slept for another hour, but his dreams of the raven-haired boy were torture. At least if he was awake he didn’t have to dream. Dan knew he was gay, he always felt wrong for it. If he could repress it he would.

  
Dan decided it was best if he ate something. The boy hadn’t eaten anything that day and was hoping he wouldn’t have to. His stomach disagreed, he was hungry, and he couldn’t win a fight if he didn’t have any energy. Flipping through the, nearly empty, cupboards he ended up settling for cup noodles and an egg. Dan brought the food to his mouth slowly taking everything in as the next time he ate would be a mystery. He was hoping to get a decent bet on him tonight, then he would be able to get groceries without concern. He knew that would be wishful thinking. It had been a bad week for Dan, it was already Thursday and he has yet to win a whole night of fights. He’s had a lot on his mind recently and he brought that baggage to the ring.

  
After washing his dish from his makeshift dinner he decided to do a short yoga routine. Some stretching would help alleviate the remaining soreness from the previous night. Dan grabbed his old laptop, pulling up a workout on youtube.

  
Practically everything he owned was hanging on by a thread. His parents bought him a laptop for his fifteenth birthday, they kicked him out six months later. He was a disgrace to them, they never wanted to see him again after what he did. He took everything he could in the short time his parents gave him to pack. To a fifteen-year-old, that was clothes, his laptop, his iPod and any food he had hidden in his room.  All his parents would do for him now is cover up his own foolish mistakes. Dan was lucky that Mr. Banks caught him stealing, if he hadn’t, Dan wouldn’t have a job or a place to call home. Mr. Banks saved Dan's life and mentored him to be the best streetfighter he could be. The young boy owed him the world, and Dan knew that. 

  
It was time to leave, Dan grabbed his bag, keys and water bottle. He decided to take the elevator down. The stairs would probably be faster, but his legs were still slightly sore and he couldn’t be bothered. The elevator was coming from the floor above, as the doors opened in front of Dan, he saw a familiar face standing inside. 

  
“Oh hey!” Phil said excitedly at Dan, “Fancy meeting you here.”

  
“Yeah it’s like we live in the same building or something,” Dan countered, he was always a sarcastic lad. His current situation of having to hide, shut everyone out and keep to himself only amplified his remarks. 

  
“You caught me there mate,” Phil laughed at his remark, “So, am I ever going to get your name? Or are you going to be my ominous neighbour forever?” 

  
“I’m Dani-, um Dan, just Dan,” he replied. 

  
“Well just Dan it’s nice to meet you,” Phil turned to look at Dan and was shocked to see the dark purple bruise around his eye. 

  
“Oh shit! That’s quite the bruise, are you okay? I honestly can’t believe I didn’t notice that.” Phil rambled, slurring his words slightly. 

 

“Yeah ‘m fine,” Dan was embarrassed, “I’m just clumsy. Fell running down the stairs on my way to the gym this morning.”

  
Phil laughed, “I’m clumsy too! I promised my friend I’d finish all my drinks at home tonight because, no matter where I am or who I’m with, I always spill them.”

  
So much made sense to Dan now. They left the elevator together and Phil was still rambling to Dan about the party he was going to tonight. Dan still wouldn’t look at Phil, he never liked when people looked at his injuries. A silence fell between the boys.

  
“So, are you one of those people that just live at the gym?” Phil gestured to the gym bag wrapped around Dan’s torso. 

  
“Oh um, s-something like that,” Dan stuttered, the question caught him off guard. 

  
“You taking to the tube?” Phil asked as they approached one of the stairwells to the platform.

“Oh well, uh…y-yes, I am, the nine-thirty express,” He stuttered out. 

 

“Cool, well I’m catching the local across the street, so I guess I’ll see you around!” Phil gave Dan a wave and crossed to the station on the other side of the road. 

  
He watched Phil’s tall figure jog across the road. His legs looked amazing in the loose fit black skinny jeans. He was also wearing a  blue wool jumper, that made the tall man look small and adorable. Dan hated that he liked looking at the boy so much. He was told all his life looking at boys was disgraceful and disgusting. It was something he kept to himself for so long; something he would continue to keep forever. 

  
Dan didn’t begin to descend the staircase leading to the tube until Phil was completely out of view. Dan knew he may be able to see Phil from his platform, that depended on what trains were passing through. Once Phil was completely out of view dan turned toward his staircase. A breeze blew past Dan and he shivered wrapping his striped sweater a little tighter around him. He hadn’t even noticed the brisk air when he was with Phil, but now it seemed freezing to Dan. 

  
As Dan swiped his card he heard the screech of brakes and saw his train was at the station. Dan would never admit that he was disappointed he didn’t get that final glance at Phil. Sure the man was drunk, that made him ever so slightly annoying, but he was one of the first people who actually talked to Dan. Dan liked the idea of having a friend. In the short conversation, the boys had together, Dan felt a connection. He hadn’t made any friends in nearly three years. In his job it was too dangerous, no one wanted to risk backstabbing a friend. For years, Dan was underaged too. If anyone has found out his real age he would have been kicked out instantly. The job was dangerous as hell as is, they didn’t need to add to the illegality by adding beating a minor and child protective services to the case. 

  
The tube ride was boring, there were stares from strangers, drunk college kids going out on a Thursday night and Dan getting into the zone for the night. He wondered who would challenge him first if anyone. He had six losses in the past week alone and had lost nearly six hundred dollars. It was infuriating to the boy, he needed that money. Dan was saving for a new apartment in a nicer spot of town where the train rides would be shorter. Maybe, just maybe, if he moved out he could take time to heal and get a real job. He could afford healthy food, fruits, vegetables, and meats. For now, that was all just a dream, something that seemed so unattainable. 

  
Then he thought about Phil. What would Phil think of street fighting? Why was his apartment in one of the shittiest buildings in an even worse neighborhood? Did he have a job? Was he just as damaged as Dan? The questions pulsated through his head and he almost didn’t notice the train had stopped at his stop. 

  
As Dan walked to The Hanger he inspected his knuckles. They looked worse than this morning. This means he pushed himself too far at the gym and would need to work even harder tonight to win. Dan could already tell that tonight was going to be less than desirable, it was going to be downright painful. 

  
The Hanger wasn’t a far walk from the underground station. It was an old storage hanger near the River Thames that was now abandoned. The hanger was always cold, even in the summers. Its roof was falling apart and that let the cool nighttime air in any season. The cool air was nice as most of the time the physical task of fighting, mixed with the screams of strangers created a very unsettlingly warm atmosphere during a match. It smelled of sweat and mold, Dan could never tell if the smell pre or post-dated the fight club. It was probably a mix of both. The walls were a thin sheet-metal, they were worn and rusted, adding an edge to the atmosphere. They made any screams echo as loud as gunshots. It was a miracle to Dan that no one had caught them yet. In the center of The Hanger, there was a big red circle. The circle was dull and had been there for longer than Dan was a patron. He used to imagine they repainted it with the blood of the defeated fighters. This motivated him to win, to never stop fighting until he physically couldn't move. No one went in the circle with the intent of losing and no one came out the same way they went in. 

  
Dan set his things down knowing he was going to be the first person to fight today. He wrapped his hands in the hand wraps he had used at the gym earlier that day. His hands were still sore and he had forgotten to wash the blood out of the wraps.  He was always first to be challenged on Thursday. Newbies that came always thought they could beat him because he was lanky, thin and tall. Those Thursday night newbies had another storm coming. People would bet on him to win and nearly get triple what they came in with. 

  
"Alright, our first person in the circle tonight is Dan! Who will be challenged by our college newbie, Marc!" his boss, Mr. Banks announced. 

  
Cheers erupted from the crowd beginning to form around The Circle. Dan removed his sweater and shirt revealing his bruising from the night before to the other man. Marc was shorter than Dan. He had very broad shoulders and a swimmers build. His hair was ginger and he was covered in freckles. He definitely didn't look like he belonged here, but at first, neither did Dan. Dan was only fifteen, he had just hit puberty and was in the middle of a huge growth spurt. Mr. Banks witnessed him take heavy losses at first, then he started to get the hang of it. Eventually, winning at fights was one of the only things he didn't fuck up.

  
"Alright, we want to see a clean fight. There are two rules, you can only use your body and don't die," Banks announced. The crowd began to go wild. 

  
People began shouting out to Dan that they have "big money" on him and he "can't lose" tonight. 

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The crowd began to cheer at the men. 

  
Once Banks cleared from the circle the match began and the screams from the crowd became incoherent. Dan began to spar with his opponent. He always waited for the rookies to take the first shot. He could see their dominant hand and best move from their first hit to assert dominance in the fight. He would always get a bit theatrical with the rookies, make them believe they had a chance at winning.

  
Marc went right in with an attempt at a right hook. Dan dodged it and kicked the other man's leg throwing him off balance. He then slapped Marc across his face to edge him on. The crowd went wild at such a small taunt. Marc then showed a pure fury that Dan hadn't seen in him originally. It was primitive, animalistic. Marc charged directly at Dan wrapping his arms around Dan's torso and knocking him to the ground. 

  
Dan hit the ground with the large "Oof," the crowd began to boo. 

  
"Oh, I see! The fag is the fan favourite," Marc laughed, he then proceeded to spit on Dan. 

  
For the first time in a long time, the crowd went almost completely silent. Anyone who was a regular wouldn't ever dare call Dan a gay slur. No one knew why, but it unleashed something in Dan that was worse than an animal. It made reminded him of his past and fuelled him with hatred.

  
Dan slowly stood up from the ground without saying a word. He barely even took a breath, despite his opponent knocking the wind out of him a few moments previous. 

  
"Coming back for more are we?" Marc continued to taunt Dan. 

  
It felt as if the crowd was holding their breath waiting or a response from Dan. Dan didn't need words. He was beyond pissed off. Fuck edging the crowd on, fuck giving them theatrics, fuck all of it. Dan wasn't a 'fag'  though, he knew he was gay. Everyone around him told him it was a phase or that it was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he would never let anyone call him a fag.   
  
Dan threw a punch right at his nose and kicked him the shins. He fell to the ground and Dan kicked him in the stomach. He couldn't hear a sound, he knew the crowd was cheering. Dan was in another world, one where he was going to teach a lesson. Dan grabbed the man by his head and kneed him in the nose with such a force that blood started dripping onto Dan's grey sweatpants, staining the fabric.

  
Marc hit the floor three times signaling that he was out. Dan suddenly came back to reality and heard the hollers of the crowd. People began throwing extra cash at Dan, a broken bone always got tips. Dan was certain he would be able to afford a new sweater AND groceries if his fights kept going like this tonight.   
"Would anyone else like to challenge Dan tonight?!" Mr. Banks yelled over the crowd. 

  
He knew the crowd excited to see who would challenge him and honestly, Dan was excited too. He needed a landslide win to get himself motivated. He hoped all the fights would be like this tonight and he would go home with not only cash but confidence too.

  
Suddenly a large man emerged from the crowd. He was huge, taller than the young boy, insanely buff and he looked like someone who would eat nails for breakfast. 

  
"I would," the man said. 

  
"Alright, and what are we going to call you?" Banks asked loudly. 

  
"Uhm, Philly," the man replied, an obvious alias.

  
'Philly,' Dan thought, 'Phil' he didn't realize he was staring at the man. 

  
Dan was so entranced by his own thoughts about the boy who lived in his building. What would he think about Dan breaking noses and taking punches for money? None of what he was doing was legal. Originally Dan was a minor in this business, Mr. Banks was the only person that knew. Dan liked the idea of having a friend, but if Phil were to be his friend he would never be able to be honest with him. Dan was sure if he tried to be friends with Phil it wouldn't be a real friendship. All Dan ever did, all he knew how to do, was lie.

  
Dan was so focused on the thought of Phil that the match had started and he didn't even notice. When he finally snapped out of it he saw a fist coming straight for him. Dan tried to dodge out of the way as fast as he could, but the large man still ended up landing the punch. Dan was a bit shaken, he knew the crowd has bets on him. Dan immediately started to fight back, but Philly was big. Dan's usual kicks to the legs followed by blows to the stomach just wouldn't work this time. He tried to dodge punches, kicks and slaps as he thought of a way to defeat Philly. Dan knew he was overthinking it, he had beaten hundreds of men just like this one. It's just the name he chose for the fight really threw him off, any day before today it would have just been another name. 

  
"I'm from a club across town. I heard you were the kid to beat. You're not even trying," he yelled at Dan whilst slapping his face. 

  
"Fuck off," Dan spoke exasperated. 

  
He elbowed the large man in the neck and the man was winded. Dan could finally get to work, he tried to kick him and throw a punch to the gut. Neither really did anything, but it was worth a shot. This wasn't going to be an easy fight. Dan definitely wasn't expecting to be kicked in the stomach. He fell on his back feeling the floor create scratches he knew would last. Upon Dan's impact with the ground his head flew back and smashed against the concrete. The world around the young man began to blur. The next thing he knew he awoke away from the crowd with Mr. Banks standing over him. 

“Dan, what is going on with you lately?” Mr. Banks asked.

“It’s just been a bad week, Banks.” Dan sighed, his head throbbing.

“Mr. Banks,” the old man corrected, “you’ve been off lately. You need to get your shit together or I’m not going to be able to justify you being a regular. Look your rent is already reduced as much as I can go. You need to get it together!” 

Dan was being lectured now and all the words Mr. Banks said didn’t connect. He was confused and probably concussed. He reached for the back of his head and he felt the slow stream of blood on the nape of his neck. It wasn’t enough to concern him, probably just a small concussion. 

“Dan! Are you even fucking listening?!” Banks yelled at him.

“No,” he responded in a monotone voice. 

“Get out,” the old man handed Dan his stipend from his fight, “And don’t bother coming back until you get your head in the game. Get it together.”

Mr. Banks was disappointed in Dan. Dan couldn’t believe how many losses he has taken that week. He slowly stood from the ground, wincing at the pain in his back and chest. He had never been hurt like this before. Once collecting his things, he slowly walked to the train station. Moving any faster was a bad idea after the blow he just took. 

He sat and close his eyes at the tube station. He heard someone sit next to him. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me,” he heard a voice, that was becoming all too familiar, say. 

Without even opening his eyes he knew it was Phil. For the first time, in a very long time, Dan smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fogetfulassistance.tumblr.com


	4. panic

Dan was only slightly bothered he couldn’t keep his eyes closed for any longer. He appreciated that just hearing Phil’s voice could make him smile, though. Dan slowly opened his eyes, with his hands, he tried to wipe away the tiredness that had manifested itself into grey bags. Dan was used to looking absolutely exhausted, but he wanted to try and look as awake as possible for Phil. As he turned to face Phil, he heard a soft and concerned gasp escape from the tall man.

Dan’s look at the man with confusion. Dan noticed one of Phil’s hands was covering his mouth. The other was reaching forward and gently caressed the space behind Dan’s ear. 

“You’re bleeding, Dan!” he exclaimed quietly, just loud enough for Dan to hear. 

Dan quickly reached up behind his ear to meet the other boy's hand. He swatted him away, feeling a trail of dried blood. He thought it had stopped earlier, he tried to clean himself up before heading to the train. 

“Oh yeah, I banged my head earlier tonight. I’m fine,” Dan rushed out rather quickly. 

Phil didn’t look too convinced, but he had seemed to shrug it off. Dan never wanted anyone to worry about him, people always offered concerned glances. Sometimes, a neighbour would even ask to help him get into his house if he was limping. He would never accept their half attempts at helping. Eventually, people stopped offering, then they stopped caring. Dan was always the mysterious neighbour, they probably thought he was a prostitute or a gang banger. To Dan, he didn’t see himself as any better than those people. They were all doing what they had to do to get by. No one would understand why they did what they did. They would be too quick to judge if Dan ever tried to explain it to them anyway. 

“What are you doing around this part of town?” Dan asked Phil, trying to change the conversation. 

This wasn’t the usual party spot for college kids, that was downtown. Right smack in the middle of where Dan lived and where he worked. 

“Well Dan, you see. I’m an absolute fool when I’m sober,” he began, “I’m a downright mess when I am drunk. And thirty minutes ago, I was so drunk I got on the wrong train to the wrong side of town!”

Dan laughed at the exaggerated story Phil was telling. Dan enjoyed being able to laugh at someone’s story. He found it funny the way Phil told stories, he told the story using all kind of hand motions. His journey was fairly simple; he got on the train and then realized that instead the stops becoming more familiar, they were becoming less and less familiar. So he got off and went to the platform that would get him home. It was very simple, but Phil told it as anything but simple. It was an adventure, it has twists and turns, it was making Dan laugh so much. He had to force himself to calm down as his freshly injured back was aching. His back was begging him to stop. Luckily, Phil finished his story before Dan’s pain became unbearable. 

“You really got yourself into some trouble then, huh?” Dan chuckled. 

“I have,” Phil said exasperated, “and you know I am quite glad I’ve run into you! You know the way home!” 

“That I do,” Dan said. 

There was a moment of silence between the boys. Neither knew quite what to say or do. It was a bit awkward, but not too awkward that you wanted to leave. They really had just run the conversation dry and were waiting for the other to pick it up again. 

“I think the world may have wanted me to take the wrong train,” Phil said. 

“What do you mean by that?” Dan was confused at Phil’s sudden statement.

“Well, we have met three times in one day. Maybe the universe is trying to give us time to get to know each other and become friends,” he said in all seriousness. 

“What kind of bull shit-” Dan raised his voice into a higher tone, smiling at Phil.

“Or Phil, maybe we just live in the same building and take the same train,” Dan continued to banter. 

“Well Dan, now that we are here, I would like to get to know you! You seem to be the only neighbour I have who looks to be born in the same decade as me,” Dan’s face fell a bit.

“There isn’t much to know about me,” he said quietly. 

Dan was always very guarded. He would never talk about his life before street fighting, that was a sore subject he still hadn’t come to terms with. Every person has their faults, Dan would never be able to forgive his parents for theirs. He knows they will never accept Dan for his. Even when he was young he kept mostly to himself. Sure, he got into a few fights with a few different jack asses. He only ever did it for attention. He would fight them at school, then one of his parents would have to leave work to tend to the duties they so often forgot. No one at his school knew anything about him. No one talked to him after PJ moved schools and Dan definitely wasn’t going to try and start a conversation. He hoped Phil wouldn’t take it personally. His life was just a series of misfortune and he couldn’t share any of it without raising an eyebrow or two. 

“Well, I just don’t think that’s true,” Phil nudged Dan’s shoulder. 

The light of the train began to appear in the tunnel and Phil had to stop his sentence as it wouldn’t have been heard anyways. The boys stood together getting into the nearly empty train. 

“Like I was saying,” Phil began, Dan had hoped he would have dropped the conversation. 

“I’m Philip Michael Lester, ‘m 20, my favourite colour is blue and I’m from Rawtenstall. I love dogs and video games. I moved to London for college and I have never been more confused by a train map in my whole life,” Phil began to ramble on.

Dan couldn’t help but think it was cute that Phil began to ramble on about his interests. Dan had to shift his focus from Phil’s words slightly. He didn’t want to, but his head had suddenly begun to throb and Phil’s voice was elevated to combat the noise of the train. Dan was almost certain the older man's intoxication also played a vital role in the volume of his voice. His eyes began to wander. He began to focus his energy on the way Phil’s lips moved, his mouth was small and suited the way his head narrowed into a pointed chin. The smiled that played at Phil’s lips as he spoke, Dan tried to memorize. It made him feel calm, he couldn’t even hear Phil speaking anymore. He didn’t need to know what Phil was saying. His mind was lost in the details of Phil’s face. His sky blue eyes held a true happiness, this happiness was deemed truthful in the crows feet clinging to his temple. Every detail of Phil was interesting. It wasn’t until those blue eyes changed from happiness to confusion when Dan snapped out of his trance. The sudden rush of his headache returning, he hadn’t noticed it had left. 

“Dan, are you sure you’re okay?” Phil asked.

“I’m fine, just my head hurts. It’s been a long night,” he replied.

“Here our stop is next, let me help you get into your flat. You probably shouldn’t be alone tonight, especially if you hit your head,” Phil offered a smile to Dan. 

“Yes, I really want help from a drunk college kid. Thanks, I can manage though,” Dan was trying to get Phil’s attention off of him. 

“I’m sobered up now. Let me help you, damn,” he was flustered.

“Okay,” Dan said simply. 

“Wait, really?” Dan was just as confused as Phil at that moment.

“Really,” he confirmed again.

Dan was surprised at himself. He hadn’t known what had taken over himself in his response. He liked Phil. He liked that the older boy, who didn’t even know he was older, didn’t push Dan to answer questions. He accepted that Dan didn’t share, but appreciated what Phil did share. Dan wanted to trust Phil, he wanted a friend. A dangerous proprietary, but the selfish desire outweighed the undeniable doubt. Dan was going to try and have a friend. Someone to confide in and trust. Someone, he would be able to show his carefully rehearsed facade to. It was a pleasant thought. These pleasant moments becoming more frequent in the past twenty-four hours, than they had in years. 

As the boys left the tube Dan was finding trouble walking. He was well rehearsed in hiding pain. Not rehearsed enough obviously, as Phil had placed Dan’s arm around his shoulder and became a human crutch. He knew Phil was just trying to help, although the back injury was the most painful abrasion he had acquired that night. Having his arm raised was strenuous on his shoulder, causing even more pain than earlier. He appreciated that Phil was trying to help.  Dan shifted getting himself into a more comfortable position. Dan wasn’t quite sure how the boy could see through his falsified personality. How did he see through Dan’s attempt at walking? Or noticed how checked out he was during their conversation? Phil seemed just as mysterious as Dan at this point. Phil knew what he was looking for. For the first time, Dan felt afraid of Phil and what he might figure out at just a glance. 

Once the boys arrived at their building Phil turned his key just as Dan had earlier. They made their way to Dan’s flat on the second floor. They had been mostly silent the whole way home from the underground. Phil’s whole aura carried concern for Dan. 

“When we get inside I’ll run you a bath, yeah?” Phil asked. 

“Sure, um, I’ll just get some fresh clothes I guess,” Dan fussed with his keys unlocking the door. 

Just as the boys had agreed, Phil made his way to the bathroom and Dan and gotten his towel off the ground. He also grabbed a random pair of sweatpants and his beaten up jumper from earlier that day. When he walked back into his small living space Phil was waiting there for him. 

“Um, well, make yourself at home. My laptop is on the counter. I might have chips or something,’ Dan said as he pointed to the different locations. 

“I won’t be long,” he rushed out before Phil had a chance to respond. 

“Mate, take all the time you need,” Phil Smiled at him taking a seat on the small loveseat that came with the place. 

Dan made his way into the bathroom, closing the door and stripping his clothes down. He inspected the dried splatter of blood on his pants. He wondered if Phil had noticed it. They were a decently dark grey, so he may not have. Dan slowly lowered himself into the ankle-deep water. He sat in almost a fetal position at the front of his bath. The water could run over his arms, legs, and chest, offering him relief. Once the water reached an appropriate height he turned off the tap and began to relax back into his bath. The hot water against the raw skin of his back caused him to gasp in shock. Dan didn’t realize his fall had done so much damage to his back, it stung and seared as if being branded by the night. Eventually, his body adjusted and the pain in his back dulled. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the water and the thought of Phil being outside the bathroom waiting for Dan’s return. 

Once Dan’s water had lost its steam and he felt himself pruning, he got out of the bath. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way to the mirror. It was fogged from the steam of his bath having no way to escape. He brushed it with his hand only leaving a light amount of dew. Looking at his stomach, a large bruise was starting to swell on his skin. It attached to the one on his ribs that he had assessed earlier that day. He turned in an attempt to look at his back, just from what he could see it was bad. There were scratches and marks lining his spine. The injuries he sustained from the fall would call for a few days of recovery at least. Dan opened his mirror, revealing for the second time that day, his medicine cabinet. He grabbed the Neosporin and naproxen. He rubbed the Neosporin along his back to all the parts he could reach. Open wounds were never fun and cleaning them on your own was a bitch. He also swallowed the naproxen to relax his muscles and rid himself of the pounding headache. The bath helped subside it, but he knew sleep was the only way to truly get rid of it. 

Dan grabbed his sweatpants and placed them over his long legs. B ending to put them on sucked, but at least he wouldn’t have to change until he felt up for it again. He then noticed the jumper he had picked was missing. 

“Shit,” He whispered to himself. He must have dropped it on the way to the bathroom. 

Dan didn’t want to put his clothes on from earlier as his sweater had bits of dried blood seeped into the back and it smelled of sweat and failure. 

“Hey, Phil!” Dan called. 

“Yeah?” Phil immediately responded. 

“I think I dropped my sweater,  could you grab it and just leave it at the door?” Dan asked. 

He heard Phil shuffling around and then it stopped. He assumed that Phil had placed the sweater at the door and opened it to grab it quickly before he could see his injuries. 

As he opened the door he came face-to-face with Phil, he looked like he was getting ready to knock. Phil took a deep breath and his eyes wandered up and down Dan’s body, eventually settling on Dan’s stomach where the large bruise had inhabited. 

“Dan, holy shit,” he said taken aback. 

“Phil, don’t-” before Dan could finish his sentence he felt a hand caress the area around his belly button. 

The hand wasn’t putting any pressure on the area, it also wasn’t just any hand. It was Phil’s hand and it was rolling along Dan’s abdomen as soft as a feather. Dan tensed under the older boys touch. He hated that he liked it. 

Phil pulled his hand back yet took a step towards the younger boy who was closing himself off. Looking at his feet hunching his shoulders. Before Dan had a chance to cross his arms over his stomach, Phil’s hand had returned. It wasn’t tracing the wound like it had before, his hand was stagnant over the bruise. It was almost hovering over it, and Phil continued to step closer until they were mere centimeters apart. The only connection they had was Phil’s hand on Dan’s stomach. Dan could feel Phil’s breath on his face. He couldn’t meet his eyes though. 

“Who did this?” He asked, his voice pained. 

“Dan?” Dan’s brain had ceased function. 

He had never been this close to a boy before. Nothing had ever felt so wrong yet so right. His parent's hateful words echoed through his head. He was shutting down. He didn’t feel safe. Phil had gotten too close. Phil had to leave.

“Dan?!” he questioned again. 

Dan’s breathing labored. He felt his mind spiral. He couldn’t move though. He wasn’t able to do anything. He wasn’t able to control himself. He failed. He lost. He needed to find control. 

“Get out,” Dan’s voice spoke barely above a whisper

“What?” Phil lifted his chin with his free hand. 

Dan couldn’t meet his eyes. Until he could. And he was enraged at the older boy. 

“I said get the fuck out!” Dan yelled as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

Phil didn’t know what to do, all he knew is that he was afraid. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a long time to write but i'm finally getting somewhere, updates will be more frequent. amen, 
> 
> forgetfulassistance.tumblr.com


	5. shell of a man

Dan could feel the tension between them. He could sense Phil’s fear when he retracted his hand from Dan’s stomach. 

“Dan, you need me,” Phil’s voice sounded pained, “Please, let me help you!”

“You don’t know me,” Dan laughed at Phil, “You don’t know anything about me!” he shouted. 

He had made Phil jump at his outburst, making himself even more upset. He didn’t want to hurt Phil, he had no control. He barely knew the guy and he was already ruining everything. Dan didn’t have friends. He realized it’s not because he’s not capable. He’s a mess. Phil had to go. He couldn’t drag anyone down with him. He would hate himself for the damage he would cause. 

Dan turned around abruptly into the bathroom. He knelt into a squat to try and get himself to calm down. His hands were pulling at his damp hair. His breathing was shaky. It laboured causing him to feel even weaker. He didn't care what Phil saw. He was disgusting. Phil would see it and he would leave. Just like everyone else had. 

“Please, just go,” He whispered just loud enough for Phil to hear. 

Dan heard steps drawing towards him. He began to steady his breath as he did know what Phil was going to do. His mind was finally calming down, but every other part of him was agitated. 

“Phil, don’t,” he warned. 

“I’ll leave, but please let me just clean up your back,” the older man’s voice was laced with concern. 

His back. Dan had forgotten about his back. The adrenaline of his anxiety had numbed the pain. Phil had reminded him it was there and it began to sting. He slowly stood, biting his tongue between his teeth. The pain he felt was immeasurable. He had made the mistake of moving quickly before his back could completely dry after his bath. He was certain it would be bleeding again.  He desperately wanted Phil to stay and help, maybe he could apologize. That was a false reality. Phil would want to ask questions, questions Dan didn’t have answers to. Dan’s panic attack had subsided, but the leftover agitation would not be kind to either of the boys. 

“Phil, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. For your own sake please,” Dan didn’t know what had taken over him. 

“Dan. Stop pushing me away. I want to be your friend and that means I want to help you,” Phil placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder. 

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me what happened,” Phil said, “You do have to tell me where to find a washcloth,” 

Dan smiled without Phil seeing. He was in awe that the man behind him could make him smile even when the darkness appeared. He barely even knew Phil and he was already feeling better about the dreadful life he had to live.

Phil filled the sink with warm water and Dan pointed to the cupboard under the sink. Phil opened it to reveal two wash clothes and some rubbing alcohol. The boys were silent, Phil was messing about with the sink and peroxide. Dan didn’t really know what to do. He was sat awkwardly on the edge on the bathtub fiddling with his hands. No one had ever properly taken care of him before.

All he could do was watch Phil. He appreciated the clumsy, yet steady hands. The way he rung the cloth over the sink, they twisted as if he had done this a million time before. It wasn’t like the way you rung a t-shirt, he rung it so it wouldn’t drip but would still retain the liquid he would need to clean Dan’s wounds. His hands were large, Dan had wished he noticed how they felt on his stomach. He was so fixated on Phil’s concern. All he could remember was how they were light and feathery, but they shook. 

Dan wanted to memorize every detail of Phil. 

“Turn around,” Phil instructed. 

Dan obeyed turning to straddle the edge of the bathtub. Phil sat on the toilet behind him. He was disappointed he couldn’t look at Phil, he was appreciative he didn’t have to clean up alone. Dan took a deep breath and waited for the sting of peroxide and water to hit his skin. When the sting didn’t come he turned back to look at Phil. 

“This might sting so just, fair warning,” he gave dan a look of sympathy. 

Dan had never gotten a look of sympathy before. It was always looks of pity or disgust. People hated looking someone with a black eye in the eye. It made them uncomfortable. Not Phil though, Dan realized. Dan always felt Phil’s eyes on him. He was certain if Dan had looked up at him he would be making eye contact. 

“Eighteen,” Dan said as Phil pressed the cloth gently against his back.

“What?” Phil asked surprised. 

“I’m eighteen. My name is Dan. I’m from- shit that stings!” Phil had touched a particularly tender part of Dan’s back. 

“Sorry!” Phil exclaimed retracting his hand immediately. 

He stood and rinsed the cloth in the sink and returned back to his original seat continuing to clean Dan’s wounds. 

“I’m from Wokingham, Berkshire,” he continued, “And there isn’t much else to know about me.”

“Everything I’ve learned so far has been amazing,” Phil spoke gently. "There's always more. you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,"

Phil was tender with Dan’s wounds. After Phil was done Dan realized how exhausted he actually was. When he turned to look at Phil he realized he saw exhaustion in his eyes as well. 

“I’m sorry you had to stay, I’m really fine. You should get rest,” Dan went to grab his top which was still in the doorway of the bathroom from his breakdown earlier. 

“Dan, honestly, I was worried. I want to know you’re okay,” he replied. 

“Don’t wear that jumper, you should let your wounds air out. They will heal faster that way,” Phil advised. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” Dan started to feel awkward being shirtless in front of such a beautiful man. 

“Now as promised, I’ll go,” Phil walked past Dan into the living room grabbing his phone. 

Dan didn’t want to admit he was disappointed. He didn’t want Phil to leave, his panic took over him. Made him yell things he didn’t mean. He also couldn’t let Phil stay no matter how much he wanted him to. It wasn’t fair on the lad to force him through whatever the hell Dan offered. 

“Thanks again,” Dan said as Phil made his way to the door. 

“It’s no problem. Could I, um, get your number?” Phil asked

“What?” Dan was taken back. He didn’t have a phone and no one had ever asked for his number before. 

“You know, so I can check up on you,” Phil was quick to respond. 

“Oh um, well,” Dan couldn’t think of anything to say. “I only have a phone for work so I don’t like giving out the number. I’m around tomorrow if you want to stop by?” 

Dan didn’t want to admit to his slightly impoverished lifestyle. He only ever just scraped by enough for rent. Food was often a luxury and everything else was a dream. He was lucky his utilities were included. His elderly neighbours gave him their wireless internet years ago when he faked his own being broken. He was getting by. Then Phil came along, reminding him why he was a mistake. Reminding him that his brain wasn’t wired right and he couldn't even manage to keep his own parents around. He was on his own and he didn’t have the things and eighteen year old should. 

Dan was so lost in his thoughts again that he almost missed Phil accepting his invitation over the next day. 

“I’ll be over in the morning ‘round 10,” Dan nodded in agreement. 

They exchanged an awkward look as Phil left the flat. Once the door was firmly closed behind him, Dan went to the small lounge. There was an old newspaper from weeks ago sitting on the side table and Dan’s laptop was open, emitting a light white glow throughout the room. 

“What the fuck is he doing to me?” Dan whispered to himself.

Dan broke almost every rule he set for himself today. He knows how dangerous he is. His life is a hurricane and he sits in the eye of the storm, as he pushes himself forward. The true Dan, Daniel Howell, he sat in the quiet of the eye of the storm. He always sat alone and afraid of all the destruction around him, where no survivors stood. He was a hurricane destroying every waking moment in front of him before he would even see the damage he has done. He knows he’s a hurricane of mass destruction. He can stop. Stop it all, put his life at a standstill. And yet, he keeps pushing forward. 

“I’m so sorry Phil,” He continued to speak to the emptiness of his apartment. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stop myself from wanting you,”

He closed his laptop and made his way to bed, the distinct lack of warmth displeased Dan. He wished he could put on his jumper, but he knew Phil was right. He asked himself; ‘ _ How would Phil even know if I wore my jumper or not?’ _ The truth is, he wouldn’t. Dan didn’t want to disappoint the man he just met that day, though. So he tossed and turned imagining a world where he and Phil would meet under different circumstances. One where life was easy and Dan wasn’t the way he was. That is the world he wanted to live in, one with a normal friendship. That world was a memory of a dream, so far from reality that it sat heavy in Dan’s heart. It sat so heavy, his tears began to flow as he felt nothing but distaste for his reality. 

The heavy heart of an empty man caused a solitude you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. Dan was the shell of a boy he once knew. He would only be alone for a few hours, but in the absence of the older man, he felt the most lonely he ever has in his life. After tomorrow he knows he should push Phil away. Accept his solitude. Find comfort in the empty life he has clung to for so many years. He knows that Phil would push back and Dan would let him.

Maybe seeking a friend was a bad idea. Forcing them into his world was a recipe for disaster and destruction. Phil was a bad idea, but Dan had already had a taste. He couldn’t control the need to see him again. He was disgusted at his own selfish desire. A friend was better than nothing and Dan couldn’t help but take whatever the world was willing to give him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short filler chapter for Ren, @goddamnbirdidiot ily. 
> 
> forgetfulassistance.tumblr.com


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